


Battery Operated BoyToy

by AvaRosier



Series: 'Tis The Season [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: Sansa gets a part-time job working for an online sex-toy retailer. Jon works there. Naturally, this leads to them banging during the office Christmas party.





	

Disclaimer: I got my info about what it’s like to work for a sex toy company from that docuthingy that used to be on Netflix, ‘Frisky Business’. Warning: there is a link in the fic that leads to a sex toy website and a picture of the toy in question.

 

“Well, Saera-”

“Sansa,” she corrects the older woman. Her new boss, Selyse Florent, gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Every thing in the small office is neat and tidy- not a single paper is crooked and no pens lay scattered across the mahogany desk. It’s as if Selyse believes the more orderly her desk is, the more successful her business will be. The only thing that stands out is the enormous dildo that sits anything-but-innocuously on the desk between them.

(“ _That’s the Sword of Moaning_ ,” Selyse had explained, noticing Sansa’s wide-eyed fascination. “ _A very popular order, but also a very popular return_.”)

She’s only here because she needs some extra money before the holidays, but it had been the memory of her ex-boyfriend, Harry, viciously hissing that she was boring in bed as he was breaking up with her, that prompted her to fill out the application for the _House of Lys_ , an online lingerie and sex toy retailer in Oldtown.

She is so going to have to lie to her parents about where she’s working.

“Pardon me, _Sansa_ ,” Selyse says, a dour expression on her face. “As I was saying, Christmas is one of our busiest times of the year, so I hope you learn quickly. Now, if you’ll just follow Myranda, she’ll give you a quick tour and get you settled in your new department.” It’s a clear dismissal, so Sansa grabs her purse and hurries out the office.

Myranda Royce is a short, curvy brunette who is clearly dedicated to her makeup regimen and talented at accentuating her favorite assets. She takes Sansa around the building, making sure they stick around the Customer Care department, “where we answer the most awkward questions known to man.”

Sansa catches the tail-end of one of the calls: “No sir, I can’t tell you how much thicker it will make your penis,” a teal-haired woman says with a truly impressive Customer Service Voice, shaking her head in amazement. “We do recommend that if you use a penis pump, you do so regularly and continually,” she explains before tapping a few keys and removing her headset. Catching sight of Myranda and Sansa, she exclaims, “This idiot just asked me how much bigger the penis pump would make his dick…oh my gods, how would he think we’d know???”

Myranda shakes her head with benevolent amusement before gesturing in Sansa’s direction. “Wylla, Trystane, this is Sansa. She’ll be starting out in Returns.”  Sansa nervously tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear when two sets of eyes swivel to study her curiously. She almost regrets dressing up, but it’s her first day of work and she’d wanted to make a good impression. Wylla gives her a broad smile while the dark-haired man across from her gives her a friendly jerk of his chin.

“Welcome to the weirdest job you’re ever going to have, Sansa,” Trystane drawls. Everything about his manner screams vain and cocksure, which kind of reminds her of her first boyfriend. 

“Thanks. I think.” He grins but any response he would’ve had is interrupted by the beeping from his computer.

“Sorry, satisfaction waits for no one.” He taps a few keys and answers the call. “Good afternoon, _House of Lys_. How may I help you today?”

Wylla leans forward in her seat and whispers conspiratorially. “Come back here sometimes during breaks or lunch. You’ll get a kick out of listening in on the calls.”

Sansa leaves her with a promise to take her up on the offer.

“I’ll take you out back to the warehouse later,” Myranda tells her as they head down a short hallway, past the restrooms, and into a mid-sized room full of half-opened boxes. “And you can meet that hunky slab of man-meat who runs the Delivery department. Yum.” She lets out a happy little moan. “But this is where you’re going to work. This is Tyene Sand and she’ll be showing you how things work here in Returns.”

Tyene is a pretty woman a little older than Sansa with caramel-blonde hair and golden skin. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sansa,” she trills pleasantly before sticking her gloved fingers up the opening in between the plastic legs of the doll on the table before her. “Don’t mind Jayde and I,” Tyene says. _Jayde_ , Sansa repeats silently to herself. _Of course the sex doll has a name_. Now, Sansa is hardly a prude, no matter what Harry Hardyng says. She does have a little bullet vibrator in her bedside drawer and she enjoys reading the more explicit romance novels. This is going to take some adjusting to.

“So what’s her story?” Myranda asks, looking entirely unimpressed at the scene in front of her.

Tyene waves her free hand at the desk behind her. “See for yourself.”

Myranda saunters around the stack of boxes and plucks a piece of paper off the table. Affecting a deeper voice, she reads: “ _This is the wrong doll. I asked for the deluxe model and you sold me the model with the looser cunt. I also think she looks ugly._ ” A loud snort punctuates the end of the note, courtesy of Myranda.

Tyene only arches her eyebrow. “Poor Jayde,” she clucks sympathetically. “Four hundred golden dragons and she’s been rejected. Alright you strumpet, let’s get your legs straightened out. At least she doesn’t seem to have been used.”

“What happens if the… _item…_ has been used?” Sansa manages to stifle the giggle bubbling out of her long enough to ask. Both Tyene and Myranda point to the huge wastebin at the end of the table. Peering over the top, Sansa spots a number of enormous dildos, the odd vibrator, and some folded up plastic she doesn’t have the faintest clue what it is.

“Ah.”

 

Her first days there are spent getting used to her new duties and learning the proper paperwork procedures for approving reimbursements or replacements. For all Tyene has a sweet, prim disposition, she has a streak of naughtiness in her and a gift for making deadpan comments at exactly the right time that has her and Sansa becoming quick friends. It only takes a week for Sansa to relax her inhibitions around her new co-workers  and start collecting various accouterments that come with working at a sex toy store.  Whereas Myranda drinks her morning coffee out of a ‘I love cock’ mug and Tyene has a suction-cup dildo she’s stuck to a nearby wall to use as a rubber-band holder, Sansa starts taking her tea in a pink mug with a handle shaped like a penis. There’s also the little, mechanized wind-up penis that takes steps across her desk when she’s bored and wants cheap amusement beyond the usual hilarity that comes with the job.

“Listen to this,” Sansa tells Tyene on a Friday two weeks before Christmas. “ _I purchased this for my girlfriend and as soon as she saw it, she laughed hysterically. She proceeded to take it out, slap me around the face with it, and put it back in its packaging. She demands that I send it back. It’s unused._ ”  They share a hysterical cackle before Sansa closes the box containing the unused King Cock Ultra Realistic dildo and sets it to the side. Tyene glances back up at the clock and startles.

“Seven Hells! We’ve barely got time to get to the reject box before all the good stuff’s taken.” With that, she hops down from her stool and starts power-walking towards the door. Sansa follows, not sure what her new friend is on about.

“Reject box?”

Tyene shoots her an astonished glance over her shoulder. “Nobody’s told you about the Friday Reject Box?”

“No?”

This is apparently something of a scandal to Tyene. “Oh, honestly. You see, every Friday, one of the managers sets out a box or two of rejected items that they need to clear from inventory. Basically, we staff get freebies.”

“Ooh!” Sansa is a college student. She _loves_ free stuff.

Tyene leads her to a box on the bottom of a shelf near the warehouse doors. Wylla is already there rooting through it, her hair up in a high bun and a lollipop sticking out the side of her mouth.

“Anything good this week?” Tyene asks her eagerly as she and Sansa bend over to see.

“I already scored a pair of dark blue crotchless tights and there’s an awful lot of bondage-y stuff in there,” Wylla wrinkles her nose at the last.

“The stuff from that creepo Baelish’s abuse-not-bondage book?” Tyene gags. Wylla waves goodbye to them, content with her hosiery that she claims will go with her mermaid aesthetic, and Sansa watches as Tyene picks through the box. The other woman squeals when she comes across a fuchsia lace babydoll set and a small box with vibrating panties. Sansa waves her on, saying she wants to look through the box for another minute. In reality, she’s spotted a few things that she isn’t quite up to her co-workers knowing about.

She kneels before the box and quickly locates the white lace crotchless panties with the pearl charm that’s supposed to slide between the vaginal lips and stimulate the clit. Then, with hot cheeks, she picks out the small box with the nipple clamps that are connected by two rose-gold chains. Just the thought of playing with those is already turning her on.  Desperate to get her loot hidden in her purse before anyone sees, Sansa pushes to her feet and spins around, only to collide with the hard body of the man who had been standing behind her. She yelps and drops her things, nearly stumbling backwards into the shelf.

Strong arms grab ahold of her, righting her, and Sansa blinks when she realizes that the man she’s just run into is really, really, ridiculously handsome. He’s got dark brown curly hair, deep brown eyes that she’s already falling into, and the most pouty, kissable mouth she’s ever seen (and she used to room with Daenerys Targaryen freshman year).

“Eep!” Sansa yelps instead of saying something dignified.

“Gods, I’m sorry about that- I just thought you must be the new girl Myranda kept saying she was going to bring around to meet us. Here, let me grab your things-” The man babbles and then, to Sansa’s horror, he bends down to pick up the items she just dropped. All she can do is watch as he straightens and glances at the panties and nipple clamps before handing them back to her.

“Ahem. Sansa, right?” He clears his throat and tries his best (but kind of failing) to look her in the eye.

“Yes. Sansa Stark.” She stands there, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name- Myranda never used it when she talked about you.” _But she certainly was right about the hunky slab of man-meat part._

“Jon. Jon Snow.”

“Well…it’s great to finally meet you, Jon Snow. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Bye!” Sansa’s breathless as she lets out a pained smile and scurries around Jon to head back to the Returns department.

One week. Sansa has worked at the _House of Lys_ for one week and she’s only now meeting Jon Snow? She feels…cheated. Also rather irritated because now that she’s met him she’s going to be thinking about him and wanting to stare at him and fantasize about him…

This is really, really inconvenient.

 

 

Naturally, now that she has thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of the hot guy, the universe conspires to throw them together at every turn. On Monday, Sansa ends up having to head into the warehouse for a comparison item before she signs off on a refund. Jon is there, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his forearms that clings to the well-developed planes of his torso. Sansa had half hoped he would be there, half-hoped he wouldn’t.

“Sansa!” Jon doesn’t look displeased to see her, even if he frowns. “What can I do for you?”

“Fuck Me Bellenna,” she blurts out without preamble. Jon looks so startled as he stares at her agog.

“Pardon?”

_Fuck. Me._

“Um, I need to look at the 'Fuck Me Bellenna’…masturbator…doll. For comparison. The returns receipt claims it’s defective.” Sansa could kick herself, she’s usually more eloquent than this.

“Oh! No problem.”

You know what’s even worse? Jon standing there watching as she sticks her fingers into the rubber doll’s orifices.

 

On Wednesday, she bumps into him in the break room and he must be used to the paraphernalia in the place because he doesn’t look twice at her penis mug. Instead, Jon points at her shirt, her favorite 'pugs not drugs’ tee, and chuckles. “I like dogs,” he says.

 

On Thursday, he helps her and Tyene have a makeshift funeral for the rabbit vibrators turned in to them for recycling via Rabbit Amnesty. He stands by as they upend the box with brightly-colored vibrators onto the table and pulls the lever. They watch the rabbit vibrators rattle up the conveyor belt to where they’ll be crushed into bits.

“I feel like we should say a few words, to honor all the orgasms they’ve provided,” Tyene murmurs thoughtfully. Her and Jon share a look across the conveyor belt.

 

When Friday rolls around again, Sansa darts around the building like a commando, on the lookout for not only her co-workers, but specifically Jon. There’s only Trystane strolling away from the Friday Reject Box, smirking as he proudly brandishes one of their bondage kits. “Wow, you really hit the motherlode, huh?” Sansa asks him, proud of her ability to seem cool and collected by now.

“Yep. Looks like my weekend plans are set.” She knows from gossip, courtesy of Myranda, that Trystane has a longtime girlfriend named Myrcella who is probably going to be the one tying him down. Sansa hopes that kit comes with a good gag to shut him up.

There’s nobody in the vicinity but Sansa makes sure to crouch with the warehouse doors in her sight. _Hurry, hurry, before anybody else comes and sees you_. None of the lingerie is particularly appealing, but she still grabs a black lace and emerald silk teddy that looks like it might fit her. She’s distracted from the quick nature of her mission when she notices the stack of dvd cases towards the bottom. The XXX version of ’ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ ’ catches her eye immediately and she picks it up, planning on watching it later tonight with a few glasses of wine. Either she’ll get worked up enough to pull out her brand-new purple rabbit vibrator (which she shamefully ordered online from another company) or the movie will be so cheesy it’s only good for a few laughs. Good thing it’s free. There’s also ’ _Quick & Dirty_’ which promises four hours of quickie sex scenes. Sansa shrugs and picks that one up, too. Before she can study any of the other titles, there’s the soft sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. She freezes and ever so slowly turns around, praying fervently that it’s not who- _it is_.

“Jon,” she says, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched. “Have you come to look through the Reject Box?” Distantly, she wonders what he would pick out if he did. Not that she thinks about Jon Snow and his possible kinks. Much.

He stands there and combs his fingers through his hair, which is either a nervous gesture meant to diffuse the awkwardness of the moment or a move designed to show off the way his triceps bulge in that shirt. Whatever he’s thinking right now, Jon Snow has one hell of a poker face.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll just…” He trails off and leans past her to grab something from the box. Sansa gets a whiff of his cologne. A bit dizzily, she turns her head to see what Jon had selected. It’s a dvd, ’ _The Story of O_ ’, which has a compilation of scenes where men go down on women and give them orgasms galore. Sansa can’t even look Jon in the eye, so she sits there, intensely aware of the flush climbing up her chest and into her cheeks.

“See you later, Sansa,” he murmurs as he begins to stroll back into the warehouse, leaving Sansa’s mind frantically over-analyzing what had just happened. Was it her imagination, or had Jon said her name with a husky rumble? Did that mean something? Was he flirting with her- wait, was his choice in dvd specifically chosen because he wanted her to see it and think about him going to town on her poor, neglected pussy?

“Yeah, see you later Jon.”

 

 

The ladies on the content team had really gone to town on the Customer Care area, turning it into a veritable explosion of Christmas decorations. Sansa shows up to the office Christmas party in a burgundy sweater dress that makes her long, straightened hair appear almost more orange than red. Given the warm weather in Oldtown, she foregoes tights and simply wears her knee-high boots. She knows that in these boots she’ll tower over Jon, but if he doesn’t care, that’ll be a panty-dropper right there.

And she _had_ gone to the trouble of wearing the crotchless panties with the pearl charm.

Every time one of the pearls slides against her clit as she walks through the _House of Lys_ , she gets naughty thrill. She accepts the cup of mulled wine from Mya, who works in the warehouse with Jon, and dons a reindeer’s ears headband to match Wylla. There are snacks and wine and holiday music piping over the speakers; everyone seems to be laughing together and talking. Sansa, on the other hand, is intensely aware of where Jon is in the room at all times.

She almost thinks he’s going to ignore her all evening when he’s suddenly at her side after Myranda and Mya head off to find the spiked eggnog. “Nice ears,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Thanks.” She preens. The warm, floating feeling inside her right now probably can’t all be attributed to the wine. After finding herself constantly humiliated in front of Jon, Sansa decides to be bold for once. “Did you enjoy your movie last weekend?”

Jon’s eyebrows slowly lift. “Yes, I did. And you? Would you recommend ’ _Quick & Dirty_’?”

“I haven’t watched that one yet. I did watch the x-rated ’ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ ’ and I think that one had higher production values than the actual show.”

“Did it, now? That’s good to know.”

When she had been sixteen, all she’d done was stare longingly at Joffrey hoping he’d notice her and then when he did, he had been the one to make the the first move. With Harry, she’d put herself in his path as often as possible until he’d noticed the way her short shorts showed off her long legs. Apparently with Jon, she was going to stand around discussing the merits of pornographic films.

“I’d recommend the lacy panties, too, but I don’t think they’d work on you quite the same way.”

Jon  nods for a beat before he responds. “Maybe there’s another way I can try them?”

 

There is a clatter somewhere past her elbow as she is lifted and deposited without ceremony on top of her workstation table. “What was that?” She asks, more than a little breathlessly thanks to Jon’s kisses.

“The Sword of Moaning, I think. That prick,” he mutters before nipping at the skin below her jaw.

Sansa’s giggles taper off the higher Jon’s fingers slide underneath her dress, pushing the thick material up over her thighs. He toys with the lacy band over her hips as he presses hot kisses along her neck. When he moves back enough to glance down at the now-exposed panties, Sansa’s skin grows hot and prickly knowing that Jon could see her red pubic hair through the slit and the string of pearls disappearing between her labia.

Jon groans at the sight and pulls up the stool she usually works from. She knows what she wants and what he’s after, so Sansa doesn’t even bother waiting for Jon to push her knees further apart, she does it for him.

“Gods, you’re already so wet,” he murmurs reverently.

Jon opens her up with his fingers, barely hesitating before he licks her from bottom to top, his tongue probing around the pearls. She moans at the contrast in textures, shamelessly grinding her sex against his mouth. Jon dives in hungrily, trapping a pearl against her clit and closing his mouth over both. The pleasure is so sharp Sansa nearly curves her entire torso off the table.

After that, Jon is relentless. She can’t hold back any of the noises bubbling out of her throat and, looking for an anchor in the maelstrom, grabs ahold of his hair, gripping hard enough for him to let out another groan, this time against her cunt. She feels her orgasm right there, building in a series of exquisite clenches. Sansa rides Jon’s tongue over the edge, keening as all the tension shatters throughout her body.

Barely has Sansa caught her breath when she hops down from the table on legs that are jelly and clings to Jon like a limpet. “I have an idea,” he says. At this point, Sansa thinks any idea Jon has will be a brilliant one if he makes her feel this good again. They straighten their clothes and her workspace; Sansa tries, and fails, to find her reindeer headband. Jon leads her down the maze of hallways and with the lace-and-pearl panties still on, each step is raw. By the time they make it into one of the offices in the back of the warehouse, Sansa is soaked and ready to go again.

“Here,” Jon says, turning on the Christmas lights strung up around the room. Seeing the papers on the desk she guesses this is his office. He rifles through his messenger bag and comes back with a box. “I filched this from the Reject Box a while back.”

'This’ is a [Gladiator Remote Control Cock Ring with Clitoral Stimulator](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.lovehoney.com%2Fproduct.cfm%3Fp%3D35060&t=MmQxOGUwM2Q0ZjMzMTlhNzg0MTc5NWEwOWU0ZjMyNzUwM2VkZTJkMSxndUdhMXhvdw%3D%3D&b=t%3Aa1L53P2qrPWPFo6cja9BCg&m=1). A mouthful to contain a multitude of uses. “It looks very intimidating,” Sansa says, but she knows he can see her biting her lip and the grin he shoots her tells her as much. As she watches Jon pull off his sweater and jeans as well as his black briefs, she learns that they work for one of the most convenient companies in the world to have spontaneous sex in: never wanting for condoms or lube.

He sits down on the couch and slides on the condom first before the sleeve of the cock ring. Sansa understands the basic idea: the bar that runs along the top of his shaft will vibrate for both his and her enjoyment, whereas the little joystick-like protrusion at the base will be for her to grind her clit along. “I hope you remembered to put batteries in that thing,” she tells him as she watches him place the small remote on the arm of the couch.

“I did manage to remember that, yes,” he deadpans. 

While Jon starts lubing himself up for her benefit, Sansa hurriedly shucks her boots, shimmies out of her panties, and tugs her dress over her head. She quite likes the heated way he looks up at her as he works one hand over his cock. It makes her feel bold again as she places first one knee, then the other, on either side of his thighs and lets him guide her down until she’s hovering over the tip of his cock.

“Go as slow as you need to,” Jon advises as she starts to lower herself around him. The cock ring makes him a bit bigger, but with a few distracting, drugging kisses, she eventually settles herself fully in his lap. This isn’t a toy to go rough with; slow and steady would win this race.

“I’m ready,” she hums, carding her hands through the wiry black hair on Jon’s chest. Their faces are so close together, it’s like they’re sharing sight and breath. Experimentally, she rocks herself against the clitoral prot- “ _Oh_!” She gasps, body jerking as electrical shocks of pleasure race through her limbs and up her spine.  Only Jon’s hands braced against her back keep her from falling backwards off the couch.

“Oh, that’s- that’s…” Sansa has been reduced to babbles as she clutches at Jon’s shoulders and starts to cant her hips.

“That’s it, that’s it, sweet girl,” he croons, his arms locked around her waist helping her keep up her pace. The vibrations are a pleasant buzz against her clit and she can feel the fainter tingles inside. Gradually, Sansa builds up a rhythm, heart pounding from the effort. With every rock or roll of her hips, the coil inside her tightens and release is rapidly approaching. From the concentration writ onto Jon’s face, he’s close too. He fumbles around, and it’s not until the vibrations kick up a notch that she realizes what he’d just done.

She comes with loud, breathy moans, contracting and shaking against Jon, all around him. He’s grunting and doing plenty of moaning of his own, as if his release is storming out of him faster than he can control it. She comes back down to earth in a haze, still squirming against Jon as it takes him several tries to turn the remote completely off. Sansa doesn’t have a clue how long they sit there slumped against each other, but eventually Jon lifts his face from where it had been tucked in between her shoulder and neck.

“That’s your Christmas present, by the way.”

“Multiple orgasms at the office Christmas party?” She teases.

“Hey, I thought we’d mix things up a bit. Maybe for our second date I’ll take you out for dinner.” He puts the offer out there so casually, but she sees the uncertainty in his eyes.

Sansa hums softly, nodding drowsily down at him. “I guess this means our third date will involve one of those sex swings?”

Jon’s chest stutters against hers as he lets out a bark of laughter. “Why not?”

 

 

 

 

She was _so_ going to have to come up with a fake story about how they met.


End file.
